The Fourth King
by Kiana Caelum
Summary: Three parts. Sun, sand and ancient evil. A story about friendship, family and, of course, love.
1. Chapter One

Huge thanks to the very, very awesome people who commented on Certain Dark Things :) You are brilliant.

**The Fourth King**

It was a stormy summer, rain-swept and split by lightning. The days resounded to the incessant patter of rain: the view through the windows was blurred, smeared, refracted into broken pieces. Yet it was oddly peaceful, with little else to do but wait out the weather with the cosy, cheerful company of her friends.

That wasn't something Chatoya Irkil could often say of her life and she didn't expect it to last.

So she wasn't too surprised when the call came, late one blustery night, disrupting their poker game.

"It's for you," Lisa said shortly, holding out the handset. "That jerk."

Blue, then. Her soulmate had been out of the country for a fortnight, and she'd felt his absence more than she would ever admit.

He would, she suspected, have felt the same thrill in the wild storms that she did. He might even have understood why she snuck out in the middle of the night to stand under the occluded sky and let it try to buffet and drown her and sweep her off her feet.

After all, when she crawled back in, soaked through and sated, the space where he was not seemed less significant.

Still. He was an assassin and the leader of one of the Nightworld's three mercenary organisations, feared, loathed and ludicrously powerful. By a series of increasingly bizarre events, most of which Blue had engineered, she'd wound up running Pursang, one of the other two. He was both her enemy and her lover, and seemed to see little difference between the two. Which meant there was no chance this was a social call.

"Oh joy," she muttered and took the phone.

Cougar's poker face transformed into a scowl above his cards, proving once and for all that bluffing really wasn't the vampire's forte; something Thom obviously twigged to as he quietly folded, eyeing the pile of chips in the middle with regret.

Oblivious to the tension in the air, Jepar flicked his stake onto the table and said, "Raise you." Then looked up with a grin and added, "Jerk is far too soft. Blue's more of a bastard."

"See you," Cougar snapped, and chips clattered.

"Preaching to the converted here," Chatoya reminded them, and lifted the handset to her ear. "Hello, Blue."

"My witch," he greeted her on a line full of static. "How are things?"

Civility. That didn't bode well. "Did you actually ask me how I am? What do you want, Blue?"

He sounded a touch annoyed. "Nothing I can have at this particular moment. Which, yes, is the ulterior motive behind my call. I need your delicate touch."

"My delicate touch with what?" she said, and realised how it sounded when Cougar slammed down his full house with unnecessary violence. It didn't help that Blue was his brother, and they got along like a house on fire: heat, pain, and the ever-present possibility of someone being choked to death.

"Powerful spells. I need some very old curses stripped from a tomb and I doubt there's anyone else who could withstand the backlash if it goes wrong."

"Where are you?"

"Egypt."

"Egypt?" she squeaked, and Jepar glanced up as he laid down a straight flush. "Is this to do with Didier Algera?"

"If I'm correct. I've chartered a private flight for you at the airfield in an hour. Bring back-up. Two trustworthy people, preferably with high-level ability in close combat. Any more will be unwieldy. They'll need their memories erased afterwards."

His voice was deadly serious. Her stomach sank. "I take it this will be sealed in our personal archives."

"Yes." That meant it related to a high-level Fury, or an exceedingly dangerous creature. She had read enough of the records put together by former leaders of Pursang to know that such missions were rare, and rarely survived. "You may wish to tell your second-in-command of this expedition. No one else."

"Blue, what is this?" The others were watching her.

"I'll explain when you get here. I suggest you hurry."

With no further ceremony, he hung up. She was left with no answers, only the certainty of danger.

Nothing new, then.

"Toya?" Jepar said. "What was that all about?"

Two trustworthy people. She met those green eyes, full of concern, and said, "How would you feel about a holiday to Egypt? Beautiful Nile vistas, archaeological wonders and all the sun you could want."

The shapeshifter blinked. "Well, my tan could use some work... What's the catch?"

"You have to face down almost certain death."

A faint grin lit him. "Aside from Blue?"

"Believe it or not, he is not going to be the biggest threat out there."

"If that's what you think," Cougar cut in acidly, "you're going to need more than Mr Tantastic here."

"Hey!" Jepar said.

She gazed back at Cougar, facing down his anger, letting it wash over her as she had the storms in all their fury. "I know. That's why you're invited too."

His eyes widened, gold and soft and startled. He recovered quickly. "When do we leave?"

oOo

When she first stepped off the plane, the heat didn't seem so bad. By the time they had crossed the tarmac to the waiting airport, she was profoundly glad of her sunglasses and the hat Jepar had insisted she wear. The searing sunlight had soaked into her skin until she felt as if she should glow.

She let out a sigh as they passed into the building and were struck by cool air-conditioned air.

"You didn't say it was going to be this hot," Cougar said accusingly from behind her.

"It's August. It's Egypt," she said, wiping her forehead. "I didn't think I needed to."

"It's hell," he moaned. "Only without the possibility of it freezing over."

She turned in time to see Jepar step through the glass doors with apparent reluctance. "It's beautiful out there," he said with a wistful glance at the air shimmering above the broiled tarmac.

Cougar gazed at him in disbelief. Spikes of his black hair were already wilting onto his eyebrows. "Are you insane?"

The shapeshifter actually shivered. "Let's get our bags and get out of here."

"Mad," Cougar muttered.

Weighed down with luggage, visas stamped, the three of them trudged around the parties of tourists to the reception. They went past the armed guards, rigid and stern in white, with a certain amount of trepidation. Somehow, the signs decrying Luxor as 'City of a Thousand Smiles' didn't ring quite as true when a machine gun covered the exclamation mark.

"I knew I forgot something," sighed Jepar as they passed more tourists.

"Any chance it's your freakish ability to wake up with the sun?" Cougar asked sweetly.

His mouth turned down. "Worse. I forgot my sandals."

Chatoya muffled a giggle at the vampire's expression. "You can buy more," she told Jepar.

"Not if you want to associate with me," Cougar said firmly. "Not unless-"

His voice cut off as though a door had slammed shut. In his mouth, she saw the start of a scowl, echoed in the hard glitter of his eyes and she knew just who was stood there.

Chatoya only turned her head fractionally and Blue filled her eyeline, his hair outrageous and azure against the soft orange of the tiled walls, his expression almost an exact echo of Cougar's. She felt the similarity between them keenly whenever they were together; it was easy to forget how alike they were, focused as she so often was on the immense differences between them. Now the fact was driven into her like a stake.

"I could have sworn I said bring backup," her soulmate said in a voice that was flat and dangerous.

"And here they are," she said equably, secretly delighted. He hadn't known – hadn't even guessed. "The best I could find."

"Where did you look, in villages with an overabundance of idiots? Exactly what qualities do you think they possess that will be of any use?"

A light touch of her hand was enough to stop Cougar from saying something that he was likely to regret. She smiled into her soulmate's cold eyes, and said, "I trust them."

Implicit in her words was the insult: _as I dare not trust you._

He heard it: his eyes flicked to them, flanking her, unafraid, these two men who had been either side of her shadow before he was her enemy, long before he was more than that.

"And soon everyone will know it," he said, the words a statement of fact. "You've brought your friends into the heart of the Furies, my witch, and now they're nothing but a weapon to drive into your heart. Trust them if you wish, but they can betray you by their very being. And they will. Sooner or later, they will."

"We can take of ourselves," Jepar said in a voice that was eerily calm.

"And we'll take care of any of your minions who are stupid enough to try and use us against Toya," Cougar added, flashing a smile as nasty as his tone. "They really, really won't live to regret it."

It didn't faze Blue. He only said, in a voice soft with menace, "We'll see."

oOo

The roads were potholed, and the car a collection of scrap parts held together by rust and optimism. She gritted her teeth at every spine-jolting bump and braced herself against the door.

"Amazing," she said. "I didn't think you could find another car as horrible as your Fiat, but here it is."

Blue shrugged. "It's roadworthy, and it's inconspicuous."

"Could be worse," Jepar said cheerfully from the back seat.

"Yeah, you could be driving," Cougar said darkly. His mood hadn't improved at all: he'd spent the journey glaring into the back of Blue's head as if that might make it explode. "So, little brother, want to explain why you need our help?"

She muffled a sigh. The question was delivered in a patronizing tone that probably wouldn't have had any effect if anyone else had asked it. As it was, his expression was concealed by sunglasses, but she saw Blue's hands tighten on the steering wheel.

"You're likely to be about as much help as a concrete lifebelt," Blue said icily. "But if my witch wants to leave her life in your hands, so be it. She's the one who must open the tomb, and you will need to ensure whatever guards it cannot touch her."

"While you do what?" Cougar enquired.

"Take the artifact inside it, and do my utmost not to be controlled by it."

The silence that followed his remark was charged. Chatoya turned to look at him, his profile clean and sharp, cold in this hot dusty place. "What artifact?" she said.

"If I'm correct – and I may not be, but it's unlikely – the tomb contains a copper crown. It is the key to subduing the creature which has caused a zodiac of deaths. It rises every five hundred years, and each time we too rise and stop it. We have been unlucky this time. Each death takes it closer to full strength, and every time since it first rose, we have stopped it before the full twelve. Algera was the last."

"Then what?" Jepar said, tense.

"It comes to collect the crown and the glory it once held."

"Was it a king, then?" Chatoya said softly.

"Yes," answered Blue. "Once, in Palestine."

"What happened to him?" she said.

"Power," he said. "It's a long story."

"Is it a long ride?" Chatoya glanced at him. "I'd like to hear it."

She didn't think he would tell them, but then he began to speak in clipped, bored tones. "Very well. He was, I am assured, a good king to begin with, as if such things matter, but he was ambitious. He learned that there were beings beyond this world, the demons and the devils, the dark shadowy things that only a fool would try to barter with. But a fool he was, so he spoke with them, and when they asked some small thing – a memory, or a tooth, or a hair – he gave it to them, and what he received seemed worth the price."

She watched him, and thought: some small thing, like a kiss, or a dream, or a future.

"But their gift faded, and so he went back. He bartered again, for a greater gift. Piece by piece, he sold his soul and his sanity for power. His empire grew, and his humanity shrank. At last, nothing remained but the hunger for power, an obsession so deep it consumed him."

Perhaps she could understand this king, a little. It wasn't power that clutched at her, but she knew the stirrings of fascination, knew what it was to return time and again to something gripping and unearthly.

"So when they asked for his most precious possession, he took his beautiful wife, Mariamne, and cast her out of this world, into the smoke and darkness and the void. In return, they gave him a crown made of copper which would compel all who saw him to obey as long as he wore it, no matter the order, how terrible or how trite. But it was a demon's gift, and so when he put the crown upon his head, it turned to fire, and burned him through and through. Lesser men – better men – might have thrown it away then, and shrunk into grief. But he endured the pain while his subjects trembled before him, and as the demons had promised, as long as he wore it, none could deny him."

"Bloody hell," Jepar murmured.

Blue's smile was faint and icy. "An accurate description. His borders expanded, and he swallowed place after place into his empire. Then, one day, his men captured a prophet – a local witch. She was well-renowned, so he had her brought to his court and commanded her to tell him the future. She got to her feet, and looked him in the face as no one had since he took his crown of flames, and said, 'Your end comes: your end cries in a cradle even now. A child shall topple you with a sword of stars.' It got a touch garbled in mortal translations, of course, as such things do. But they did get their facts straight about the massacre. Every child under two was slaughtered in the empire, for a mad king's love of power."

"Hang on..." Jepar sounded stunned.

She stared at Blue. "I've heard that story. It's in the Bible."

"And as I said, it's an imperfect version that has been absorbed into mortal mythology. But that detail is right."

"Herod?" Jepar choked. "We're hunting down Herod?"

"His crown, actually." Blue turned into a long golden driveway that twisted up to a house on a rocky hill. "I think it's best we keep him and it separate, don't you?"

"You said the Furies have encountered him before," Cougar said curtly. "How do we stop him?"

"We won't. But the Old Soul who was born to stand against him will."

"You're relying on _Fate_?" Cougar said, incredulous.

Blue drew the car to a juddering stop in front of the door. "No. I'm relying on the fact that we have raised her from birth to be what she is for just this moment." He turned off the engine and got out, slamming the door.

Chatoya followed: she looked at him over the roof of the car, his face unreadable. "And what is that, exactly?"

"The same thing as the rest of us," he said. "A weapon."

oOo

Inside, the house was basic but spacious. Jepar and Cougar began unloading what little luggage they had, dragging it up the rickety stairs. An ancient air-conditioning unit whirred in the living room, which was beautifully tiled in black and red. Through an open door, she glimpsed a flourishing garden, green and white and pink.

A woman rose to greet them from a battered chair. "You must be Chatoya," she said, offering a hand. Her grip was strong, almost bruising. "Aurenna Ravija."

The woman who'd brought Blue to the Furies and a legend in her own right. Her amber eyes were piercing, staring down her beak of a nose with a hawk's intensity. The sun had bleached her spiky blond hair and given her a deep tan.

"Reading up?" Chatoya asked, noting the pile of scrolls beside her chair.

"While we can," Aurenna said. She looked to be in her late thirties, her voice calm and low. She glanced at Blue. "Diablo, shall I fill them in?"

"No need." It was strange to hear Blue referred to by his title. Her friends treated him with no such reverence, and the two of them were past formalities, long past. "They have only to meet Sunita."

"She went out to Karnak with Kurt. They'll be back soon." An almighty crash came from upstairs. Aurenna glanced up, a flicker of alarm in her face. "What on earth...?"

Jepar's voice drifted down to them. "Um...we've had a bit of a spider incident."

Chatoya saw Aurenna mouth the words with an incredulous look.

Blue heaved a jaded sigh. "This bodes well."

"I heard that!" Cougar shouted down. "And it took us by surprise, all right?"

"Quite," Blue said, a liberal helping of sarcasm in the word. "Whereas the demon king will be entirely predictable."

"I'd better make sure they haven't damaged anything," Aurenna murmured. The floorboards above them creaked ominously. "The air-conditioning is fragile, and believe me, you don't want it to break."

She made a hasty exit as something clattered. For the first time, Chatoya was left alone with Blue.

He lifted the sunglasses, and the intensity of his gaze was briefly dizzying, as if the Egyptian heat hit her for the first time. And if they had been a normal couple, perhaps she might have kissed him, or melted into his arms, or said _I missed you_.

Instead, she took off the sunhat and combed her fingers through her hair, and left distance between them. "Do you trust her?"

"Not entirely," he answered. "But enough."

"And me?" she said softly, not sure why she asked it. "Do you trust me?"

He smiled. It was knowing, and sensuous, and a little scornful. "As much as you trust me."

Not at all, she wondered. Or far too much?

oOo

_Thank you for reading! Feedback very much adored._


	2. Chapter Two

Many thanks to the fantastic people who commented on the last part - thank you **Shang Leopard, xhinglian **(Thank you!), **xo-saraa-ox, Char17, blahberghy **and the magnificent **Midnight Demonn. **I love hearing what you think; it makes my day!

Hope you enjoy...

**The Fourth King Part Two**

Evening found them in the living room, spread about on the couches in an odd echo of yesterday, only then she had been among friends. This was a far stranger and somewhat uncomfortable scene; Blue's presence meant the tension was as tangible as the heat.

Chatoya had positioned herself well away from him, and was using Jepar as a not-entirely-human shield. She thumbed through sheaves of reports, though none gave her any reassurance.

"So how long have you worked for the Furies?" Jepar asked Aurenna in a voice so fake and hearty that it didn't help matters.

"Nearly twenty years," the shapeshifter answered. She was making notes in a neat hand, cross-legged on the red and black tiles. "Long enough to read your file when it first came out."

A flush stained Jepar's cheeks. "Um. We don't talk about that."

She only raised an eyebrow into her short blond hair. "I can see why. Did you ever think about a career with us?"

The shapeshifter looked like he wished he'd never broached the matter. "No. It was a one-off."

"Actually, I believe it was a nine-off," she remarked. Chatoya got the impression she was enjoying Jepar's discomfort. "If we're going to be accurate. And you..."

Her amber eyes shifted to Cougar, who stared back insolently.

"You," Aurenna mused, "are not what I expected. The family resemblance is uncanny, of course."

Chatoya wasn't sure who looked more offended, Blue or Cougar.

"But you're so much more..."

"Awesome?" Cougar offered sweetly.

"Human," Aurenna pronounced. "I was expecting you to be more like your brother."

His mouth curled into a sneer, his eyes gold as sunlight, gold as a Pharoah's fortune. "You say that like it'd be a good thing."

She smiled. "And if you think it wouldn't, why are you here?"

The silence that lingered after that was extremely uncomfortable.

oOo

"Evening." Kurt Schrader's silhouette filled the entrance. He was one of Nightfire's best and it was no surprise that Blue had brought him here. An imposing man, his dark brows and stern mouth gave him a saturnine look. He nodded to her. "Pursanguia. A pleasure to see you. I don't believe I recognise your companions."

"You look well, Kurt," she said, smiling at him. Though he had been one of her most vocal critics, they had come to a truce after she had helped him avenge his son's murder. "This is Jepar Jubatus..."

Jepar bounded to his feet and gave Kurt a handshake, his smile warm and civil. He knew danger when he saw it.

"...and this is Cougar Redfern," she finished.

Kurt gave the vampire a long once-over, then his dark eyes flicked to Blue, clearly cataloguing the similarities. Like Jepar, Cougar offered his hand, but stinted on the smile. She could practically hear bones creaking as they shook, more challenge than greeting.

"Interesting," Kurt said in a tone that implied quite the opposite. When he turned back to the door, his voice softened: she could have sworn he sounded affectionate. "Sunny! All safe and clear."

Outside, a car door slammed. Then a figure appeared behind Kurt, the setting sun like a golden aura outlining her. She held a small gun in one hand, and the light ran along it with dazzling intensity.

"Chatoya Irkil," Blue said, "Meet Sunita Halaria."

She stepped into the shade – and Chatoya felt a chill of pure shock.

Sunita was a child.

She looked maybe eleven or twelve, a slender girl with a stream of shiny black hair and lovely, liquid eyes that were far older than her form. The bold pinks and golds of her clothes sat well against her dark complexion, not so well against the weapon she carried as if it was an extension of her arm.

"Pursanguia," she said. Her voice was low, with traces of India in it. "I am honoured to meet you."

Chatoya struggled to muster words as she rose. Sunita barely came up to her chest and looked like a sudden breeze would knock her over. "From what Blue's told me, the honour is definitely mine," she said. "And you can call me Chatoya."

"I'm called Sunita in this life," the girl said. "But I don't mind being called Sunny."

A smile broke through her formal mask: Chatoya saw the promise of the beauty Sunny would become. Her eyes were bright as stars, full of hope, full of the future. She shone then, like a twist of fire in darkness.

"I can see why," she remarked softly.

"You said in this life," Jepar put in. "Who were you?"

Sunny looked up at him. "You're an Old Soul too," she said. "I can see it in your eyes."

He blinked, startled, then gave her a lopsided smile. "I am." Jepar crouched down so he was on her level. "I'm not a Fury though."

She watched him with a kind of wonder. "Then what are you?"

"Just a shapeshifter. Chatoya's one of my oldest friends. I've come to look after her. I'm Jepar – though in my last life, I was called Ieran." He leaned in and said in a stage-whisper, "I was way less fun then."

Sunny smiled shyly. "I've never met anyone who isn't a Fury."

"Well, it's your lucky day, because there's two of us here," Jepar said. He stood up, and gestured to Cougar. "This is Cougar. He's Blue's brother and he's Toya's friend too."

Sunny's mouth dropped open. There was an accusing look on her face as she swivelled to stare at Blue, hands planted on her hips. "You never said you had a brother!"

"I try to forget," Blue said darkly. "Mostly, I succeed."

She gazed up at Cougar, face full of adoration. "You're taller than he is!"

"Yep. I'm nicer too."

Sunny giggled, and the sound reminded Chatoya just how young she was.

"Nice won't do you much good with Herod," Blue said sharply. "As Sunita is more than qualified to know."

Chatoya hated him a little then for the ease with which he wiped the smile from Sunny. Her expression distorted, an amalgamation of an adult's well-worn grief and a child's lurid fears.

"Was that necessary?" Kurt said through clenched teeth. "Sunny is well aware of her duty."

"It's all right, Kurt." Sunny sat down on the couch beside Blue. Her feet kicked idly against the chair. "He's got a point. It's business." She folded her hands into her lap, her back straight as a princess's. "You asked who I was. My name back then was Salome. I was Herod's daughter."

Cougar made a choking noise. "_The_ Salome? As in dance of the seven veils?"

She gazed at him, unblinking and unashamed. "That Salome. After my father began consorting with demons, he changed. My mother was afraid, but she knew what he did was wrong. She...she tried to stop him, to burn all his spells."

"Then he gave her to them. I was only six months old." Her voice was very quiet, drained and dreadful. "But my nurse had loved my mother, so she told me the truth. He struck me one day, because I wouldn't do what he wanted. I knew how it would end then. When he killed my nurse, no one was left to help me." She swallowed. "No one but them. I was desperate."

"The demons?" Chatoya guessed.

Sunny gave a tiny nod. "I went into his rooms late one night when he was gone. I burned the spices and I spoke the words, but when the fires opened onto their world, I didn't call the name in the spells. I meant to, but I was scared and I could hardly think..." She blinked: her eyes were wet. "I called for my mother. And she answered. She gave me the sword, and she promised that it could kill him forever when I understood how to use it. She was crying all the time, my beautiful mother, and she told me that she could only give gifts that hurt, because that was what she had become. She was a demon too."

"A sword of stars," Chatoya quoted, recalling the prophecy Blue had told them.

"She's still there," Sunny said, her voice bitter and thin. "Mariamne the demon, trapped in the fires because nothing was enough for my father. Not her, not me, not anyone or anything."

She was weeping outright, tears streaming down her face. Then, to Chatoya's surprise, she got to her feet and staggered into Kurt Schrader's patient embrace as if he were the father she had so desperately needed.

"Don't cry, Sunny," he murmured, patting her head. "It's almost over."

She raised a haggard face. "But it's not, is it? I've killed him seven times and he keeps coming back!"

"This time he won't," Kurt swore. "Now come on, didn't you promise Aurenna you were going to help her make dinner tonight?"

"You did," Aurenna said, her eyes tender. "I made a special trip to the market so you could show me how to make that stew you tell me's so good."

Sunny cuffed at her eyes, a small forlorn figure overshadowed by the immensity of her task. Aurenna took her hand and led her from the room, asking gentle questions about Karnak.

"Poor kid," Cougar muttered. "How the hell's she going to kill Herod?"

"With our help," Kurt said stoutly. His jaw was tensed, his eyes hard. "Sunny's going to kill him once and for all and then she's going to live a long, happy life."

Blue's voice was cool. "That sword is quite a weapon."

Horror flashed in Kurt's eyes, brief but real. "Diablo, no."

"It must be considered, Schrader. We've trained her as arduously as we would one of our own-"

"For this task. For no other reason!"

"Sunny's future is a matter for discussion," Chatoya put in. Cougar and Jepar looked at her with identical astonishment; they rarely saw her professional persona. "But it's a discussion that should be informed by the opinions of those who know her best. Who raised her?"

Blue's cutting glance said he knew what she was doing. "Sunita has lived with Aurenna. Kurt trained her."

"I see," she said, giving him just as pointed a stare in return.

"Yes," he said icily. "You do. Because your opinions are not clouded by sentiment."

She pressed a hand to her breast, feigning shock. "Careful, Blue. That was almost a compliment."

"Sounded more like an insult," Kurt said idly. The tension had not left his big frame: he towered over them both, a dark bundle of energy in a room full of light.

Blue stood, languid, and the space seemed suddenly a good deal smaller. "I suppose that depends on your point of view, Schrader. And just how sentimental you've become."

Kurt's hands curled into fists. His eyes flared, the hard shiny gleam of onyx. "Sunny is a person."

"Sunita is a weapon," Blue corrected. "Something you seem to have forgotten."

"She is both," snarled Kurt, power swirling about him like a halo. "And when she has ceased to be a weapon, she has every right to a life."

"As your son did not," said her soulmate in a voice of deadly softness. Kurt did not flinch, but all the same, Chatoya saw those words carve through him. "He was an inadequate weapon and he broke because of it."

Kurt threw the punch before any of them could stop him – and Blue evaded it easily. His hands snapped out: there was a crack as Kurt's arm broke, and an almighty crash when Blue threw him into the wall.

"Sunita is not yours," Blue said, not even breathing hard. "She belongs to the Furies by her own agreement. Your job is to teach her to kill Herod. Nothing more. Nothing less."

The vampire got to his feet as if he hadn't just collided with six inches of brickwork. The loathing in his eyes made Chatoya very glad it wasn't aimed at her. "I have done my job, as I always do. Even when your initiates murdered my son because you condone such atrocities in the name of ambition, even when you told me it was justice, nothing more and nothing less, I did my job! I raised a child so you could cut him down, and I will not raise another for the same pointless, useless end."

"That is not your decision." There was steel in her soulmate's voice and steel in his stare, bared and sharp and brutal.

"No." He was very still, very silent. Only the turmoil that moved in his eyes like stormclouds indicated that he was more than an imitation of life. Then Kurt turned to her, and he said, "It is yours, though."

"In part," she said, wary.

"And what will you decide?" He fired the question at her as if it was a bullet: she could not dodge it, could not evade the impact of it, as deep in her heart as lead in her flesh.

Her mind kept returning to Sunny's smile, to the hope which blazed in her with such young, romantic fervour. And to Blue, who was all shifting shadows and clever traps, for who hope was only a tool to shape and twist and craft.

"You were right," she said quietly. "Sunny is a weapon. She is also a person. Maybe she will live happily ever after. And maybe she'll want to join the Furies. But it should be her choice. Not ours."

Kurt gave one short nod. "I've heard you are a woman of your word."

"I am."

"And I am a man of mine," he said. "If you will take Sunny's side, I'll take yours."

She felt the jolt along the soulmate link like static electricity. "What do you mean?" she said cautiously.

"I'll publicly renounce Nightfire and join Pursang."

"Can you even do that?" asked Cougar, sounding as bemused as she felt.

Kurt Schrader gave her a grim smile. "Watch me."

She did not dare look at Blue's face. As far as she knew, no one had moved across the Furies in a very long time. Such news would light a wildfire in their dark, cold world.

It would be a declaration of war. There could be no going back, no denying that the stealthy rebellion she had begun was out in the open. And now it was no longer merely the two of them, treading a well-worn no man's land in unending battle: they would pit Nightfire and Pursang against one another, and she could not say what the outcome would be.

And these days, she suspected, neither could Blue.

Chatoya held out her hand. Kurt took it, and she met his eyes without fear. "I accept."

oOo

Dinner was tense. Although Aurenna and Kurt kept up an easy flow of chatter with Sunny, she could tell Cougar and Jepar were itching to interrogate her about what had happened. She carefully avoided giving them the opportunity. To her surprise, Blue joined the conversation with apparent ease, putting on a front of amiability that seemed to be for Sunny's benefit.

Once they had cleared the table, she got her first chance to see Sunny fight. Under the setting sun, the girl moved with a grace and swiftness that came from years of training.

"It'd be good for you to practice on someone different," Kurt observed after she'd finished taking a wooden baton to his kneecaps. He staggered up with a grimace. "Maybe Redfern."

Cougar glanced up from where he was picking through a layout of the tomb. "No way. I don't beat up kids."

"Good to know," Kurt said. "But if you manage to touch Sunny, I'll be disappointed. She managed to give your brother a broken ankle to think about last time."

"He still won," complained Sunny, frowning.

"And what did that teach you?" put in Aurenna patiently.

Sunny rolled her eyes. "It's not over until they're dead," she said in a sing-song voice.

"And?"

"And once they're dead, it's still not over until you've dismembered the body, set it alight and scattered the ashes across a minimum ten mile radius."

"Good," Aurenna muttered. She gave Cougar an unimpressed look. "Now stop trying to weasel out of it. You won't hurt Sunny."

Cougar looked very uncertain as he got to his feet. Ten seconds later, he was knocked off them as Sunny tackled him around the knees. By the time she elbowed him in the face, he'd realised it might end in tears, but they would almost certainly be his.

Even so, Chatoya could see he was pulling his punches. Cougar was fighting defensively, whereas Sunny was going straight for the jugular. She was small but ferociously quick; and those flowing clothes concealed an array of weapons. About the point where the knife nicked his ear, Cougar's eyes started to gleam gold.

"Bear in mind that this is your back up," remarked Blue, his voice for her ears only. "Still think you made the right choice?"

"Always," she murmured. "Still think you did?"

His eyes flicked to Kurt Schrader, who was nodding approval as Sunny whipped a kick into Cougar's stomach. "I didn't bring them to protect me. I'll admit, at first I wasn't sure that Schrader would die for her. Now I know."

She stared at him. "You set him up."

He didn't answer: he only smiled faintly, though that could have been at the happy sight of his brother landing in an ungainly heap against a palm tree as Sunny declared victory. She wondered, uneasily, what he would gain from it all – and worse, what she would lose.

She thought of a crown that could control anyone and anything, and felt her blood run cold.

oOo

The night was as sultry as the day. Her window opened onto a cloudless sky, dominated by a vast white cataract of a moon. It turned her mosquito net to a shimmering silver curtain, but she was no Sleeping Beauty to dream a hundred years away.

Instead, Chatoya tossed and turned, too hot even in the cotton sheets. At last, she gave up: she slid into linen trousers and a loose top and crept downstairs.

When she got there, she was startled to see the back door stood open. She paused on the threshold, caught by the sight that greeted her.

Moonlight spilled onto the garden, turning it into a haze of shadows and silver. The palm trees were spiky silhouettes against the indigo sky, stars glinting between their leaves. Everything was still and tranquil – except for Blue.

He was a blur of motion: kicks, punches, flips, moving through an intricate routine. She saw, now and then, the gleam of blades that appeared and disappeared with a sleight of hand as deadly as it was impressive. It was a stark reminder of how dangerous he was.

He saw her at once: he paused, and tossed her a careless smile, his eyes dark as ink. Sweat gleamed on his arms and cheekbones. "Stare as long as you want."

"What are you doing?" she said.

"Practicing. If you've read the reports-"

"Which you know I have," she cut in, irked by the insult.

The amusement in his voice said that he had provoked exactly the reaction he'd wanted. "Then you'll know that the tomb has four guards, demons every one. They are extremely fast."

"We can take care of them."

He didn't look convinced. "My witch, you can barely take care of yourself."

"If this is about the leprechauns, you weren't covered in glory either."

His mouth twisted. "As I recall, I was covered in leprechaun spit. But I assume you didn't come out here to talk about that."

"No." She paused. There was no good way to start this conversation. "I don't think you should be the one to get the crown."

"I'd ask why, but the reasons seem fairly self-evident." His voice was dry. "If it's any reassurance, I have no intention of wearing it. Indeed, I doubt anyone but Herod can."

"That's not what I mean. You said you would try to avoid being controlled by it."

"It's linked to Herod. Even when he and it are apart, he has some measure of influence over it." He shrugged. "Or so Aurenna believes. I'm ambivalent, myself."

"And what if she's right? What if he manages to control it – and you – while we're trying to get out? It's happened before. The only reason any of them survived was because Herod was half-starved and Nightfire sent its weakest member to get the crown. Even so, it took three people to hold him down and stake him."

"Do you have a better idea?" he said, eyes narrow and unfathomable in the gloom.

She let out a sigh. Better was a relative term. "Jepar or Cougar."

"I have doubts about their ability to protect you, never mind their ability to outrun a quartet of demons, fight off a mad king and resist a spell powerful enough to compel an entire nation to obedience. No."

It had come to this then. "Me."

"No." The word brooked no negotiation.

"Blue," she said softly. "If I get the crown, we can both guarantee that you can stop me if necessary. Can you say the same if our positions were reversed?"

His silence was telling. And somewhat unflattering.

At last he said, "You did not fare well in your last encounter with demons."

She flinched. The scars sliced across her stomach: he'd traced them with his hands often enough to know their ragged lines. The reminder was a cruel one, of the secrets she still had not told him, of all that she had found in a small dark house where a demon pulled her heart apart piece by bleeding piece.

It hurt her. It angered her.

And she said, "Then I guess I'll have to fight you for it. I win, I get the crown. You win, you do."

It was an unpalatable position to be in. Last time she had fought Blue, she had been the challenged: and she had chosen the place and weapons. This time, he had all the advantage.

"Done," he said. "Weapons..." His smile flashed. "Hand to hand. Right here, right now."

She took a deep breath. Although she had spent the last three years learning to fight, she had never beaten Blue without the use of her magic. She met his eyes: she braced herself.

"Are you going to stand around chatting all night?" she said acidly. "Or shall we get on with it?"

She saw the gleam of his teeth. "As you wish."

He moved, lithe and quick, but she was ready: she caught the blow, and then it was a mad tangle of fists and feet, of dodging kicks, slipping from his grip, judging which blows to take and which to defend. Aches bloomed and faded on her body, driven back by adrenaline.

The link crackled around them: each blow brought sparks with it, until part of her embraced every contact that lit her veins like lightning. She saw it echoed in his eyes, and it gave her an idea.

She stepped past a punch, into his body: he was tense, hot, already moving to the next strike. And then she kissed him.

It was an act of trust. She was entirely defenceless in that moment, her hands on his chest, on his hammering heart.

When his arms closed around her, it was victory of a different sort. The kiss was savage in its intensity, bristling heat to match the air around them. Every touch left its imprint: his mouth, his hands, the hard lines of his body.

She drew back, both of them breathing hard. His eyes were dark with desire. The fight was forgotten.

But only by one of them.

When she drove her fist into his jaw, he didn't see it coming. He jolted back, dropping to his knees, and then, to her surprise, laughed, a low husky sound that rippled up to the stars.

"Impressive," he said, fingering his cut lip. "You've certainly become more ruthless."

She unclenched her fingers, knuckles stinging. First blood: she could be magnanimous in victory. "I have a good teacher."

"You have an excellent teacher," he corrected, and his eyelashes dropped. "A shame you have so much left to learn."

"Like what?" she challenged recklessly.

His eyes flicked up, and flared gold as honey. "This," he said, and moved.

She couldn't keep track of what happened: there was an impact and air and then the prickly grass in her back. He had one hand beside her head, and his weight pinned her, the space between them small and intimate. The knife at her throat had materialised out of nowhere. And just to cover every eventuality, which she gave him grudging credit for, dragonfire shimmered around him like a mirage.

"Don't start mixing business with pleasure," Blue advised. "It'll get messy."

"What happened to fighting by the rules? I won."

He raised an eyebrow. "Wrong."

She reached up, and touched the blood on his mouth. He went still. "First blood," she said.

"You didn't specify first blood, my witch. I win."

"You do not!"

He gazed down at her, serene. The knife was an icy touch at her throat. "Very well. I'm prepared to offer you a trade."

She hesitated. "I don't know what you can offer me that I don't already have."

"The little fiend," he said. "When we vote on Sunita's future, I will give you my support. In return, you agree that I'll get the crown and we'll run the risk that Herod may control me. If he does, I suggest you distract me in much the same way as you did a moment ago."

She blinked. "I was going to try flashfrying you if it all went wrong. Do you think kissing you is more likely to work?"

"No, I'd just prefer it." His smile was wicked, sudden, gone in a breath. "Do we have a deal?"

"I could still win," she pointed out.

"You're welcome to try, certainly," he said in a voice which suggested she didn't have a chance.

He swayed back from the slap she aimed at him. The knife never moved. When she grabbed his arm, it dug deeper: she could not squirm out of his grip, could not beat him back or throw him off. Ten minutes of frantic last-ditch tactics followed, during which he remained immovable and irritating.

At last, she sagged back, exhausted. "Fine. Agreed. Let me up."

He did so: when she stood, her head whirled, and she had to sit back down on the grass again.

"I should have hit you harder," she muttered.

He crouched down: his hand cupped her face, his thumb brushing over her cheek in a trail of fire. "As I said, you have a lot to learn."

She gazed up at him, not leaning into that touch, refusing to need him. "So do you. Why do you want to get your hands on that crown so badly?"

He had handed her Kurt Schrader with Sunny: they were a package deal. He had damaged his own reputation, and she couldn't fathom why if he truly had no intention of using the crown.

His eyes were vast as starless skies, measuring her. "To stop others from getting their hands on it," he said finally. "Someone leaked Algera's death. And they leaked just what it is Herod wants. A crown that bent the world to its wearer's will – even at the price of fire and pain, some fool will pay it."

She drew in a sharp, shocked breath. "Who leaked it?"

"I don't know. Yet." It must have galled him to admit that.

"But Didier's death was confidential. No one would have known outside..." Her voice trailed off as realisation hit her.

He said, as if it was no great matter, "Yes, my witch. Someone in the Furies betrayed us."

oOo

Thanks so much for reading. I would love to know what you thought!


	3. Chapter Three

Many thanks to the awesomely awesome people who reviewed last time - thank you **Xhinglian, mudkiprox, Charlotte, **and the magnificent **Midnight Demonn.**

I love feedback: criticism is always very welcome, and I absolutely adore hearing what you think!

Thanks,  
Ki

**The Fourth King Part Three**

Despite the feeling of impending disaster, Chatoya slept soundly. Either jet lag had caught up with her, or she was becoming worryingly nonchalant about threats to her life.

She came down to a scene of domesticity: Aurenna and Jepar were making breakfast, engaged in a sort of odd dance about each other in the narrow kitchen. Fruit was being diced, and the smell of good quality coffee, rich and sumptuous as dark chocolate, filled the air.

"…met some of your cousins last time I was in England," Aurenna was saying. "Lapsang, is it? And Debbie, although your aunt called her-"

His grin gleamed. "-Darjeeling. Yeah. She changed her name. How are they?"

"Same as all your family. Smile like angels to your face and deal like the devil behind your back. I'm fairly sure the Jubatus file has _trouble_ written on it in red ink." She sounded more amused than anything. "Lapsang wanted to know if we were recruiting."

Jepar shook his head woefully. "She would. Complete thrill-seeker. Please tell me you said no."

"I told her part of the initiation was shaving off your hair."

He gave a crack of laughter. "Ouch! Hit her where it hurts, right in the ego."

"Mmm." Aurenna sliced rapidly through bananas, the flashing knife mere millimetres from her fingers. "She didn't ask me again. The little one, though - Jasmine...she's got a spark."

"Don't." Jepar's voice was grim. There was sudden tension in his shoulders. "Let her be."

She paused: through the steam of hot coffee, her expression was distorted, but Chatoya thought she glimpsed pity. "We might be good for her."

"Like you've been good for Toya?" he said, the retort flicking out like a whiplash.

"Yes," she said with a dignity that Chatoya had to admire, no matter how misplaced it might be. "Exactly like that. And speaking of, good morning, Pursanguia."

Aurenna turned her head – those golden eyes pinned her, firm and quite unreadable. Chatoya knew the shapeshifter only by hearsay, which covered the truth as carefully and completely as a mummy's wrappings.

"Morning," she said, returning her smile with one just as pleasant and empty. "Where is everyone?"

"Bane and Kurt are tidying up a few loose ends for tonight," Aurenna said. "Sunny's out in the garden, running through her morning exercises. Jepar, could you go and get her? I need to wash my hands. Bananas are stickier than you'd think."

"Sure." He vanished out into the hallway.

Aurenna turned to the sink. The spluttering tap was enough to mask her next words from anyone who might be listening.

"They don't like us much, do they?" she said, mild. "But they're not afraid, either. Very unusual. Do they think you'll protect them?"

Chatoya stared at her back, wishing she could read this woman better. "No. They know better."

"I wonder." She patted her hands dry. "You made a bold decision, bringing them. You could have brought Vaje or Lance, or even Aspen. But no. You chose two outsiders. Why?"

"I wanted people I can trust," she answered. There was no point in lying: there was nothing else Aurenna would have believed.

"But they may not be good enough."

"They'd die for me," she said, and then gambled. "Like you'd die for Sunny."

Aurenna was still. Then, very deliberately, she shut off the tap in one sharp movement, so the silence cut onto them like a guillotine. "Yes," she said, her voice harsh.

She turned: and her face was unexpectedly vulnerable, familiar somehow. Then Chatoya understood why: she had been three or four, and she'd wandered off in a mall. She'd been a little scared, but the security guard had been kind, and there were toys in the crèche.

But her mother...

Her mother had come flying in, and the look on her face when she saw Chatoya – it was frightened and hopeful and fierce all at once. Later, she understood those crashing clashing emotions, love under fire, but then she hadn't, she'd only known that her mother had hugged her so hard it had hurt.

Aurenna wore exactly the same expression.

"How long has she lived with you?" Chatoya asked softly.

"Seven years. She was five when Blue asked me to go to Delhi. Just this little scrap, all eyes and smile. I didn't mean – I didn't expect..." She scrubbed a hand through her hair, which bounced back into disordered spikes. "I never wanted kids. It was a job, that was all. Then it was a job that wasn't as bad as I thought. And then it was a job I enjoyed. And suddenly it wasn't a job at all – it was just my life, me and Sunny and then Kurt, and I was so far away from the Furies that I almost forgot them."

Chatoya couldn't remember that life, really. It had existed: there had been a house with a cherry tree, and parents who were more than words on a headstone, but it was vague and distant now, like the small self-contained world of a snowglobe.

"Then the call came from Bane." Aurenna's smile had a twist of bitterness. "And even though she was never really mine, I'm afraid that when it's all over, Sunny won't be my little girl anymore."

"Yes, she will." She kept her voice low: footsteps echoed down the hallway. "Did you ever stop being your mother's daughter?"

Aurenna hesitated. Her face softened, somewhere between sorrow and nostalgia, and beauty flared briefly upon her like sunlight slipping through clouds. "Never."

"'Renna!" Sunny burst into the kitchen, flushed and bright-eyed, towing Jepar behind her. "Jepar won't let me practice on him."

"Not before breakfast," agreed Aurenna serenely above Sunny's disappointed sigh.

"Not after, either," said Jepar hastily.

Aurenna's eyes narrowed. Her look was measured, taking him in. "Not with Sunny, no."

That didn't bode well.

oOo

"This should be entertaining," remarked Blue as Chatoya settled into the shade beside him. She left a proper distance between them, but even so, her eyes drifted to the patch of flattened grass where he'd thrown her last night. "If brief."

"Why can't I fight?" said Sunny. She was pretty in turquoise, but the flowing top slid off one shoulder and bared a set of parallel scars: claw marks. Clearly bored, she was sketching patterns into the dry grass with a knife. "I'm good enough."

"Undoubtedly," Blue agreed, and the rare compliment made Sunny beam. "As am I – but I won't be participating either. So what do you think the point of this exercise is?"

Sunny cocked her head to one side, lips pursed. Jepar and Cougar were conferring while Kurt and Aurenna were warming up. All four were armed: the two Furies had an air of relaxation. "Practice."

"For what?"

"Tonight. You want to see how good Cougar and Jepar are."

"Correct. Why?"

"To take away our enemy's biggest advantage." The knife stilled: it slid from Sunny's fingers. "Surprise. You need to know how quickly they'll die."

"If they die at all," Chatoya put in, glaring at Blue.

"Everyone dies. Except him. Herod the never-dying, king of the fire." Sunny was hunched in on herself, a child who needed comfort.

Blue, as ever, offered nothing of the sort. "Sunita, the fact you have botched his death seven times is a sign of your ineptitude, not his immortality."

She looked as if he'd slapped her. "You're mean."

He shrugged. "Yes. I'm also right."

Those big brown eyes widened with outrage. Sunny looked at Chatoya with fierce appeal. "He's horrid! Is he mean to you too?"

"Most of the time," she answered, trying not think of those times when he was not and failing.

"How do you stop him?"

Blue raised an eyebrow while she pretended the prickly heat was causing her flush. At last an answer that was true enough and cryptic enough occurred. She met his eyes, intimate despite the space between them, and said, "Considered application of pressure."

Sunny mulled it over, confused. Then she said, "Oh!"

And then she stabbed Blue in the leg.

The noise he made was somewhere between a snarl and a hiss. His shoulders were tense, but with remarkable self-restraint, he did nothing more than pluck the knife from her hand.

When he slammed it in the ground, burying it to the hilt, Sunny swallowed.

He leaned in, and said in a voice like ice, "Do not do that again."

"...but she said..."

"I said _considered_ application of pressure," said Chatoya, her voice strangled. From the look he gave her, Blue could see the laughter she was struggling to contain.

Sunny said glumly, "Sorry. But you were mean."

"What on earth are you doing?" called Aurenna. "I thought we were supposed to be fighting."

"You are," Blue said. "Get on with it."

Cougar strolled over, brow furrowed. He clocked the blood on Blue's cargos, and his eyes went to her, checking for wounds. "You okay, babe?"

"Fine." She squinted up at him. If he felt tense, it wasn't obvious. "Be careful."

Fangs perforated his smile. He raised his voice, loud enough for the Furies to hear. "Don't worry. JJ and I will try not to hurt the hired help."

Aurenna and Kurt traded amused looks. Both were too experienced to let such barbs sting.

_Any tips?_ Cougar said in her mind. There was no such nonchalance in his thoughts: only determination, and a focus that was quite unfamiliar.

_Watch out for Kurt's knuckle dusters. The spikes on them are covered with poison – fast-acting sedative, probably. He only wants to disable you, not kill you._

_And her?_

Clever. Perceptive. Fearless. And then she thought of the woman wearing her mother's expression. _Kurt can be goaded. I'm not sure Aurenna can. But...she loves Sunny. That's her only weakness. I don't know how it will help, though._

_Think we can win?_ Jepar's voice was wry. Neither of them were as nervous as she would have expected. But then, she supposed, they weren't immersed in the Furies. They hadn't heard all the grisly tales.

She hesitated, and knew in that instant it was answer enough. _Sorry._

oOo_  
_

"That," said Kurt Schrader in a muffled voice, head tipped back to stop the blood drizzling from his broken nose, "was not what I expected."

There was a gristly creak as the cartilage healed. He was covered in a sheen of sweat, grass stains and blood. She'd never seen him looking so rough and ready, or for that matter, so human.

"That's us," Jepar croaked through a necklace of bruises. "Just like the Spanish Inquisition."

Cougar was flat on his back, one foot propped on Sunny's lap. A spike had sliced into his ankle, but he was fighting the sedative and almost winning. Gold gleamed from under his eyelids, one of which was swollen to a beautiful blackberry colour. Sunny had a starstruck look on her face.

"Very funny," Kurt said, gingerly tilting his head forward. He glared down his slightly less patrician nose. "Unlike that stunt."

"Think of it as a preview of tonight," advised Cougar in a slur. "Pretty sure the demons won't fight fair either."

"If you hadn't missed…" Aurenna said through her teeth, the threat implicit.

"I was aiming to miss," Cougar said. He struggled up, but groaned as his broken ribs objected and gave gravity another victory. "It was nowhere near her."

Aurenna's mouth drew tight. That might have been down to the pain as Blue rotated her dislocated shoulder, but Chatoya suspected she was made of sterner stuff. "That knife nicked her ear!"

"That throw was amazing," breathed Sunny. She beamed at Cougar, who managed a weak smile back. "Renna, don't be mad! Remember when I wouldn't go to bed? You did the same-"

"And I spent years learning to do it!" snapped Aurenna. "I'm hardly an untrained _amateur_."

"And neither, apparently, is my brother," Blue said, his voice flat. "So who was it?"

She'd wondered the same herself. Chatoya had seen Jepar and Cougar fight several times over the years. There had been the usual scraps of high school, and their frequent tangles with the Pack – fights for pride or honour or for the hell of it. And then there had been the times – too many – when they'd fought for their lives, savage desperate times.

Today had been entirely different.

From the moment that Kurt and Aurenna had split apart, she'd expected the usual havoc. But even with two Furies charging them down, Jepar and Cougar stood calm – and when they moved, there was purpose there, strategy in every step.

Beside her, Blue sat up straight. Despite his indifferent face, she knew he'd seen it too.

The knuckle duster swung, light lancing into Cougar's eyes – but Jepar slid in to block the blow with his arm, and the two of them had switched so Cougar caught Aurenna's flying kick square on his shoulder. And then it dissolved into motion so swift she could only catch pieces of it, moves stitched together into deadly choreography.

Kurt and Aurenna were better, there was no doubt about it. Attacks came from everywhere – above, below, left, right, a flurry of kicks and blows and weaponry.

Blue murmured, "Interesting."

"What is?" Sunny said.

He glanced at her. "You tell me."

She frowned, eyes tracking the fight. "They're holding off Kurt and Renna. They aren't stronger, or faster, but there's something - they look like..." She squinted: it had to be hard for her human eyes to follow the blur of bodies. "...like both of them are always in the right place at the right time."

"Exactly so," Blue said.

Chatoya watched, trying to puzzle out how they were doing it. Jepar and Cougar moved as if each could use the other's senses: when she reached out, she felt the link between their minds.

Kurt and Aurenna had the training. But they could never have done what the boys had: they could never have let the other step into their mind. No Fury would, because to allow someone to use your senses so easily was to let down your defences and leave yourself vulnerable.

They had the training. Cougar and Jepar had eight years of friendship. Eight years of secrets kept, debts repaid, of laughter and arguments and hard-earned trust.

Her eyes narrowed as Cougar executed a move that she knew came fresh from the Furies.

And, it seemed, a bit of insider knowledge.

But Kurt and Aurenna were overwhelming them. A knife spun through the air and sliced open Jepar's arm. Blood sprayed across the scraggly grass. There was a crack as Aurenna's foot slammed into Cougar's ribs, a snarl as he lurched into her fist.

It was almost over. Jepar flew backwards into a tree; Cougar moved to shield him as he recovered but the two Furies flanked him. All he had was a knife and some busted ribs.

"They've lost," Sunny said. She sounded disappointed. "They'll have to yield."

"Will they?" asked Blue.

She gave him a puzzled look. "They don't have any choice."

His smile was faint. "There's always a choice."

"Even when there isn't one?" she said, sounding more sceptical than anyone her age should have been able to.

He turned his head: his eyes were bright and cold and knowing. "Especially then."

Kurt and Aurenna closed in. Chatoya felt herself tensed in anticipation of the beating that was surely to come, wanting to look away and not wanting to. The knife gleamed in Cougar's hand, wavering between the two of them before he flipped the blade, ready to throw it.

Her eyes met Cougar's...and he winked.

They anticipated his move – but not the target of it. The knife whipped from his hand, a silver whirl that both Kurt and Aurenna had ducked away from-

And then they realised where it had gone.

Blue didn't flinch: Chatoya did, but too late - the knife thudded into the bark of the tree as Sunny squeaked. Chatoya reached for her, but it wasn't pain on Sunny's face – it was delight. She touched her fingers to her ear and grinned when they came away wet with blood.

"That was so cool…" she breathed.

Unfortunately, not everyone agreed.

"You son of a bitch!" Kurt shouted, and then it got extremely messy.

Which brought them to this moment. Four battered people and a question hanging in the air.

"Who was it?" Blue repeated.

And in that moment, it became clear. She prodded Jepar in the shoulders: he yelped. "Your Sunday soccer game."

"What?" said Kurt, sounding flummoxed.

"Every Sunday, the boys have a kickabout with the Pack. Five aside soccer. Only you haven't, have you? I should have realised the minute you told me who your team was."

Jepar coughed. "Um. Maybe."

She gave him a jolt of healing magic that made him twitch. "Vaje, Aspen and Lance. You haven't been playing soccer at all! They've been teaching you!"

"They may have taught you to fight," Blue said very thoughtfully. "But they didn't teach you that interesting little link. Where did that come from?"

Cougar treated him to a glare full of fire. "I saw someone do it to his soulmate. Only difference was, he didn't ask."

And she did not look at him; she did not look at Blue. She only stared at Jepar's lacerated back and concentrated on fixing it, cut by cut.

Blue's voice was cool. "If we're thinking of the same person, there was one other significant difference."

"What?"

His answer was simple: and yet laced with meaning, with warning, with a deadly reminder to his brother.

"He won."

oOo

It was a clear night, as deep and still as a tomb. The Milky Way slashed across the indigo sky, and her eyes traced it, a glittering trail into the unknown. The stars were the only light, so they travelled in the shadows of the past, of dying suns and distant worlds.

That, at least, seemed appropriate.

The buzz of the engine was all that disturbed the silence. Blue had the headlights off: they swept along bumpy desert roads, far from the faded glory of Luxor, far from the tourists and the tour guides.

No one spoke. Jepar was asleep in the back, or feigning it well. In the reflection of the window, Chatoya could see Cougar checking and rechecking his weapons: fingers touched to his wrist, his legs, left then right, back of his neck.

Ahead, the jeep was almost invisible. Starshine gleamed on the hood, refracting in the facets of the taillight; hints that something else was alive in the desert. Chatoya wondered if Kurt was talking to Sunny, if Aurenna was telling her to keep her seatbelt on, if any of them realised what an odd mimicry of a family they were.

Although, she supposed there was an odd mimicry of a relationship in this car. And this was the only privacy they would get. _Are you sure we aren't walking into a trap?_

_No,_ answered Blue, his mind as bright and strange as the stars. _But if Sunita kills Herod, the crown will be destroyed. Once that's done, I intend to find our ambitious traitor. Without the crown, their plans are worth nothing._

_What if it's Kurt, or Aurenna?_

_Possible. Unlikely, given their attachment to Sunita, but possible. If it is, we'll find out in short order._

_If it is, we'll all die._

_Yes. That's how we'll find out._ He sounded positively blasé. _At which point, the ensuing enslavement and devastation of the world as we know it is no longer our problem._

_Well. Thanks for that. As ever, you're a beacon of hope in this dark hour._

He gave a soft, low laugh. Cougar glanced up, bemused.

_Would you rather I lie? This is no easy task. Sunita has never faced Herod so young. And we have raised her...differently._

_Meaning what?_

_The Furies have found her before. And we kept her like a caged animal, rearing her to kill or to be killed. No one ever considered that there was another way. She killed him and then we released her into the wild, so to speak._

_What happened?_

_The inevitable. She lived a lonely, empty life. She gambled or drank or whored. And she died not long after her father each time, knowing he would return, knowing that her existence was to be nothing but his death or hers, until the end of time._

_So what changed?_

_She had the good fortune to be born when I took over the Furies._

_You? You decided she needed to be raised in a loving family environment? I find that hard to believe._

_That's because I took the decision to raise her as if she had a future, not as if the world was full of rainbows and cuddles._ He sounded vexed. _Kurt and Aurenna did that on their own. However, it may yet work to our advantage._

_How?_

_Choices, my witch. Sometimes the same choice looks very different when you have something to lose._ There was an odd note to his voice: regret, perhaps, or a certain sarcasm. She often wondered what he would have been like if they'd never met, or if she'd died, or if she'd never dared to make him hers.

Chatoya hesitated, and she wanted to ask him what choices he'd made, what paths he'd not taken – but the road ahead was diving into a valley, and as the walls rose either side, the car coasted to a stop.

"We're here," Blue said.

She stepped out. Even at night the heat was present, if muted and soft as fleece. "Is this it?"

The gorge walls were pocked with gates and ramps. Small signs stood beside them, and off to the left she could see a shelter with maps in glass cases and benches to sit on.

"This is it," Aurenna said, her hair bronze in the night. "The Valley of the Kings."

oOo

The tomb they wanted was not among those numbered and catalogued. The Furies had been very careful to keep it hidden: it lay in the west valley, far from the tourist trail, and further concealed under an avalanche of spells.

The hour-long hike through the steep hills was dusty and tiring. When they reached it, Chatoya couldn't help but feel underwhelmed. After she'd stripped away the spells, there was only a dark hole into the ground and some crudely cut steps.

Kurt was quickly recapping the layout with the others.

"Three chambers," he said. "The first is where we'll fight. The second contains the demons – as soon as Chatoya has opened it, you need to engage them and protect her. The third has the crown. Once that's open, Malefici will get the crown and head back to us. Our aim is to leave the tomb before Herod arrives. It's going to be far easier fighting him out here."

Chatoya cast a dubious glance at the treacherous terrain.

"Until Malefici returns, Chatoya cannot release the opening spells. After that, she may need to expend her energy in keeping him from being controlled by the crown. If Herod arrives, we need to keep the demons occupied. Sunny will fight him. Help her if you can, but not at the risk of leaving a demon free to attack her. We are expendable. She is not. Everyone clear?"

There were nods and murmurs of agreement.

Sunny looked unhappy. There was uncertainty on her face when she looked at Kurt or Aurenna, as if she was seeing for the first time that they were not immune to death.

"Arm up, sunshine," Kurt said to her, his voice cool and distant. His professionalism seemed to work, because the face she turned to him was a mask of serenity.

What happened next, Chatoya could not quite fathom. She saw Sunny reach up to the sky where Orion's belt gleamed like a string of pearls. And then it was like looking into a M C Escher painting as perspective distorted, as distance shrank and expanded and twisted in ways it simply shouldn't be able to. She saw the silhouette of Sunny's hands – saw them clench before blue-white light flooded the sky, so bright she had to shield her eyes.

When she had blinked away the afterglow, Sunny held a short blade no longer than her arm. It was made of pale metal that seemed to glow faintly.

Chatoya looked back at Orion. The stars that marked the sword were gone.

"Wow," muttered Jepar.

"Seconded," said Cougar. "Bet Herod can't do that."

Sunny gave him a shaky smile. "Now all I have to do is kill him."

oOo

Inside, the air was humid. It smelt of damp stone and a faintly spicy scent she couldn't place. Wires were incongruous against the fading paintings on the walls,trailing in from a generator that whirred outside to power the electric lights.

"Ready?" Blue said.

Chatoya had positioned herself in a corner – nothing but rock at her back, Jepar and Cougar in front of her. "Ready," she said, and cast.

The words rasped out – harsh sounds, tearing down the defences that the Furies had so arduously built. She felt the magic unravelling as the door to the second chamber swung open with the scream of scraping stone.

And the demons burst out.

They loomed through gouts of thick smoke, blazing orange creatures shaped like men that charged them down. She recoiled from the heat: sweat popped on her brow and arms, but she kept speaking because there was no other choice.

Kurt and Aurenna crashed into them. The air was hazy with smoke, punctuated by the gleam of blades, by flashes of fire and reflections dancing over the walls. And then the maelstrom caught Cougar and Jepar in it too – she huddled back against the stone, cool on her hot skin, and cast on through a dry throat.

Blue was gone, sprinting down the long thin corridor from the second chamber to the third. She spoke the words: on her senses, she felt the door rise up like a portcullis, if one of smooth solid stone, and Blue slithered under it, a curl of frost in a world of fiery desert magic.

Words fell from her lips like rain; Cougar and Jepar reappeared in front of her, scorched, bleeding, but always batting away the demons. She could not stop or the door would drop shut, trapping Blue.

A demon reared in front of her with a rustling, hungry roar – and Jepar smashed into it, vanishing into the smoke in a vicious tangle of weaponry and fire.

Sunny was in the thick of it, she came to realise, her blade the blue-white of lightning. Wherever she was, the demons recoiled. Once, the blade nicked one – it screamed horribly, and the flame vanished from its skin.

Chatoya saw then that they were men, trapped in an eternity of flames. As she looked at its – at his – face, she saw the lines of suffering, saw the despair it carried. And then the fire rose over him once more, and nothing remained but rage and hunger.

Come on, she urged Blue. Come on, get back so we can go...

She couldn't say how long it was before she made out his shape, a dark smear through the miasma. Her voice was nearly gone – with relief, she let go of the spells and the doors slammed shut. The backlash swept the smoke out through the entrance, and the scene was revealed.

The Furies were engaged with two demons. Sunny had one pinned in a corner, while Jepar was taking a quiet breather. Cougar was tussling with the fourth. All of them were burned and cut and bruised, but there was no hint of panic in the air. It looked under control.

Except that was, for Blue.

He had the crown, and it was such a mundane thing – a copper circlet shaped like rippling flames. But his hands were white-knuckled about it, and he was staggering, as if he could hardly bear its weight. His eyes were pure gold, and unfocused.

Instinct made her reach along the soulmate link...

His mind was a whirlpool, swirling into chaos. At the centre of it, a command, and a voice choking his thoughts like smog, whispering _kill them all and bring me the crown…_

She recoiled.

"He's here!" she cried, but the words came out in a croak. She cleared her throat. "Herod-"

And his laughter rippled into the tomb.

He came through the entrance in a wash of choking heat that stripped the moisture from her lips and eyes even as she turned her face away. The air in her lungs was scalding and dry; she endured it grimly as she moved in front of Blue.

The pops and crackles of fire filled the air – and so did his voice, smoke-roughened and empty. "Step aside."

Chatoya backed away, but not far. She shook her head.

He laughed, and the stone shook with it. As the smoke rolled back from him like curtains, she saw the form of the king beneath. The flames coiled around him in a sinister cloak, a strange deep red. His forehead bore deep wounds that seeped black blood, and they were a match for the crown. It was a proud face, one that had been handsome once, but was now baked and cracked and blistered.

His eyes were black as oil. And there was nothing human left in them.

"I will not ask again. Step aside, child."

She called up Bhari's powers: earth surrounded her, strong and stable and heavy. Stone could crush fire, she was sure. With a flick of her fingers the floor opened up like a hand to grasp him – rock encased him, head to foot-

And exploded into pieces. She tottered as one hit her hard on the shoulder, too late raising shields that deflected the rest.

Smoke choked her lungs. Chatoya doubled over, coughing, fumbling for spells that she flung at him – magic soaked harmlessly into the fires as Herod advanced.

She could see the others struggling to be free of the demons, but they had become even more savage in Herod's presence, burning brighter as if his power fed them. Chatoya straightened, her head spinning, not knowing what she could do – only that she would not stand aside and let him have the crown and Blue.

His hands raised – red fire surged up like a wave-

"Father."

His mouth split in a grin. He faced Sunny. The sword was trembling in her hands, but she stood very straight, head high.

"Salome," he breathed on a gout of smoke. "Have you come to face your destiny again?"

She was afraid, it was plain, but she did not back down. "Yes. Have you come to die again?"

His snarl echoed from the walls. "Not this time, daughter. I have come for what is mine."

"I'll take that as a 'yes' then," Sunny said, her voice shrill, and charged him.

They blurred, the girl and the burning king, a dance of fire and stars and her dark plait like a scythe against the light. But it was clear she was outmatched from the start. No matter how well they had trained her, she was a child and he was a man.

And without Sunny, the demons were turning the tide. There was no sword of stars to force them back – they fought like dervishes, fearless and ferocious. Chatoya found herself back to back with Jepar, defending Cougar as he slumped against a wall, trying to staunch a bleeding shoulder. Every time they tried to reach Sunny, they were thrown back.

She dared not use the soulmate link. She was afraid that she would be dragged in by the copper crown.

And then it happened. Herod seized Sunny and threw her like a ragdoll into a wall. She hit the floor in a puddle of turquoise and metal and did not move. The sword clattered down.

He laughed. And then he moved towards Blue, who leaned against the wall, shivering as if it was midwinter. His eyes were a thin slit of gold, almost closed.

Kurt howled – he threw himself at the king and was batted away. Fire wrapped him like snakes and pinned him to the floor. The demons were on them like rabid beasts, burning, clawing, yowling, and they could not reach Herod.

Herod paused in front of Blue. "What a stubborn creature you are. Give me my crown."

Blue opened his eyes. And then he told Herod to do something anatomically unlikely.

The king laughed as if it was a fine joke. Then he reached out and wrenched the crown from Blue's hands. Chatoya heard the snaps as Blue's fingers broke: it reverberated through her with sickening force.

She whispered, "No..."

He raised the circlet to his head. The red flames soared over him, a pillar of fire that licked the roof of the tomb. And he said, in a voice that reached to her bones, to her very soul, and shackled it to his will: "Kneel."

Her knees hit the stone so hard she gasped with pain.

All of them knelt – even the demons. They had no choice.

"So at last I have my crown," Herod said. "Two thousand years of waiting." His voice became a snarl. "Two thousand years of dying because of a stupid beggar and a stupid prophecy. No longer. A sword of stars is nothing to a crown of fire!"

He tuned to the only person in the room who wasn't kneeling – Sunny. His shadow threw her into darkness, and she looked as small and curled as a fallen petal. One hand was loose around the sword, her head down, but Chatoya saw tears dripping onto the stone.

Sunny cowered as he strode towards her. And it didn't matter that she'd pulled down the stars to fight with and it didn't matter that she'd grown up in the Furies – she was a frightened child, and there was no one left to protect her.

Herod pulled up Sunny by her hair – she lashed out, but he locked an arm around her throat, and she was still. The sword dangled in her hand, useless. He had blocked his body with her own; Sunny was pressed to his chest, in a cruel mockery of an embrace, of a father's sheltering arms.

"It's a beautiful symmetry, don't you think?" he said. "You can watch them die and they can watch you die."

Her eyes were wide, her breath scratchy as his arm tightened.

"It's been a long road, daughter, and you have not made it easy. But despite that, you are my only child. So I will be merciful. Not, of course, that you have any choice in the matter."

And something changed in her face. There was a light in her eyes, a sudden revelation.

Chatoya heard, then, Blue and Sunny speaking earlier as the Furies fought under the sunlight.

_There's always a choice._

_Even when there isn't one?_

_Especially then._

Sunny's hand tightened on the sword, and she gave the most beautiful smile and whispered, like a prayer, "Wrong."

And then she drove the sword through her own body and into his. He jerked – he screamed in horror, and the blue-white light consumed him. It leapt from him in four directions and with nothing more than a puff of smoke, the demons were gone.

Herod blazed: she saw him as he had been, shorn of the fire and the fury. A tall man with a stern face who wore white robes, who could have been better than this. And then it was gone – there was only ash that hung in the shape of a man before it collapsed to the ground. The air had a strange shimmer, like heat haze in the desert.

Sunny folded over, nothing more than a little sigh escaping her, and fell.

The spell broke with Aurenna's scream. Chatoya staggered to her feet, but Kurt and Aurenna were faster.

The healing spells on her lips died as she saw the blood pooled around Sunny. Kurt scooped her up, very gentle, his arms a cradle that trembled around her. Sunny was crying, and trying not to – that was the worst thing. Even now, she was trying to be brave.

"Kurt, it hurts," she said, fingers fluttering against his. "Kurt, I'm scared."

"It's okay," he said, husky, lying because it was all he had left to give her. "There's nothing to be afraid of."

She gazed up at him, her eyes full of trust. "Promise?"

He kissed her forehead. "Promise."

She slid into unconsciousness, her breath faint and light.

"Can you..." Aurenna said, looking at Chatoya with terrible hope.

Chatoya put two fingers to Sunny's throat, even though she already knew the answer. Maybe Ryar could have helped – maybe – but she doubted it. "I can take away the pain."

Aurenna moaned, heels of her hands pressed to her temples. "No."

"I'm sorry," she said. It was utterly inadequate. "I can't help."

And then, where the air shimmered so oddly, it parted, and orange light gleamed. A waft of incense came with it. There was the sound of rustling, of screams, of metal on metal – and a woman appeared in front of them. Like the others, fire gleamed about her, but it was softer, the pale orange of dawn, and there was no anger in her face.

"But perhaps I can," she said. Thick black hair moved around her as if blown in a unfelt breeze.

"Who the hell are you?" demanded Kurt, teeth bared.

"Mariamne, I presume," Blue said calmly. He swept her a brief bow, mouth set in a faint smile. "Your timing is faultless. Or is it just that you knew precisely what your daughter would have to do to use your gift?"

"I gave her what I could. I knew...I knew the price. But I knew that I could offer her eternal life, too." Her face as she looked at Sunny was strange: not that look of love under fire that Chatoya had seen on Aurenna, but something else, possessive, proud, hungry.

"What do you mean?" said Aurenna, her face bright. "Can you save her?"

"I can make her like me." Mariamne's dark eyes gleamed. "Salome would live forever, a phoenix in the flames. But not in this world."

"No," Kurt said, his voice hard and low. "You can't have her."

The woman in the flames reached out her hands, her skin gleaming in the reflection of the light. "She is my daughter, not yours. And all you can give her is death. She won't return, you know. Her task is done – Herod is dead. This is the last life she will ever have, and you would let it end like this?"

Sunny shivered in his arms. A thin line of blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. Kurt looked up. His eyes were shining with tears and then his shoulders slumped. He stood – and Aurenna threw herself at his back, her face distraught.

"No! You can't! No, no, no!" Her fists hammered on his back, because even now she wouldn't risk hurting Sunny. And Kurt endured it, head bowed, until her fingers uncurled, until her hands were clutching at his shoulders, and her anger became grief. Then she pressed her forehead to his back and cried.

He said, soft, hoarse, "We have to."

She shook her head, still buried against him. "No..."

"She'll die," he said. "I don't want her to die, Aurenna. I can't...I can't let her go like this."

Aurenna drew herself up slowly, as if she wasn't too sure her legs would hold. Her hair was dishevelled, her face stained with tears and dust and blood. She pressed her hand to her mouth and and the words seeped through, anguished. "I know."

Kurt carried her to Mariamne. She reached out – and he stepped back. "I want a deal," he said.

"A deal?" Her eyebrows arched.

"You are a demon, aren't you?"

A smirk curved over her mouth. "Very well. What do you want?"

"Sunny," he said. "And I'll make it fair. We'll play on your turf, not ours."

She laughed. "You think you can survive my world? You're a fool, mortal man. But then, you usually are."

"Your turf," he repeated, calm. His words had the sound of a threat. "You save her. And then we have to find her."

"Let me guess: you find her, you bring her back. You don't, Salome stays with me."

"No." He smiled. It wasn't pleasant: there was fire in his eyes, darkness behind his smile. "We find her, we give her a choice. Sunny can choose if she stays with you or comes home with us. And if we fail, we stay. You get a couple of playthings for eternity. Sounds fair, doesn't it?"

Mariamne searched his face with the look of someone trying to find the loophole in the deal. Then she laughed and said, "Deal. She'll be healed by the next new moon. Now, if you please, my daughter."

She took Sunny, holding her as if she wasn't quite sure how.

"We'll come for her," he vowed. "Next new moon, we'll come for her."

Her laughter had the echo of Herod in it. Chatoya shivered. "See you in the void, mortal."

With nothing more, she was gone. Only a faint scent of incense lingered as proof that she had ever been there. They were left to the silence: six of them, where there had been seven, and their victory as hollow as the tomb.

oOo

The next day was too long. Chatoya slept badly, replaying the night over and over. What could they have done differently – how could they have saved Sunny? She found no answers, only more questions.

She did not disturb Kurt. He was sat, as he had been all day, in the garden, turning a knuckleduster in the sun. His eyes were fixed on some unseen point, but Chatoya knew if she followed his gaze, it would lead her back to the Valley of the Kings, and the empty tomb.

Aurenna was beside him, reading through documents about demons with fierce dedication. Every now and then, she reached out to him, and his fingers would tangle with hers, or he'd brush a tear from her cheek, then they would go back to waiting for the new moon. Neither spoke: but she felt their grief more keenly for the silence, as if the pieces of their broken hearts were laid out like toppled ruins before her.

She left them alone. It was all she could offer them, for now.

Jepar and Cougar were in the sitting room, quietly patching each other up. Most of their broken bones were gone, but the burns were taking longer to fade. She went and sat with them, and their familiarity soothed her.

"She was a sweet kid," Cougar said.

"Brave, too." Jepar grimaced as he peeled off a bandage to slap on aloe vera. "I don't know if I could have done that."

"We're coming with you, of course," added Cougar casually. She looked up and saw him watching her.

"What do you mean?"

"Into the demon world. To get Sunny. Don't think you're going without us."

She opened her mouth to give them a dozen reasons why it was crazy, and realised they knew them all already. Both of them were wearing a dozen reasons shaped like scars. "I wouldn't dream of it." She reached out, tentative, and laid her hand on Cougar's. "And thank you. Both of you."

"We're your friends, babe," he said. "We've been to hell and back. What's a little further?"

His eyes were steady and gentle, and she saw so clearly someone who would be easy to love. But she'd never wanted it easy, it seemed, and when she looked away, it wasn't him she thought of.

oOo

Blue was out on the hills overlooking the desert. He'd found the only patch of shade in the entire place and was watching the winds brushing the sand backwards and forwards. She stood over him, tired and angry and heartsick.

"Will you help to get her back?"

"Of course. Without Sunita, you and I declare war. Or had you forgotten?"

In truth, she had. It seemed an age ago. "I thought war was right up your street."

His smile sizzled. "Not when the alternative is so much more entertaining."

"Did you know how the sword worked?" she said, her voice very quiet and very even. "Did you know all along?"

Blue glanced at her. "I suspected."

No wonder he had traded her Sunny's future so easily, knowing it was only wishful thinking.

"You brought her here to die."

He didn't hesitate: it wouldn't have occurred to him. "Yes."

"She was a child."

His eyes flicked to her, as brief and piercing as lightning. "She was a Fury."

Her nails dug into the soft flesh of her palms; it was bitter and true. Yet she could not erase Sunny's voice saying _Kurt, it hurts. Kurt, I'm scared._

"She was ours," she said, at last letting the guilt and the doubt slide free. "And we failed her."

"I disagree."

"You would."

His smile was faint. "She was undone from the start, my witch. She was the daughter of a king who dealt with demons, the daughter of a queen who became one. Of course she was the only one who could end it – blood of them both, halfway between the never-dying and the ever-living. I told you Sunita was a weapon. But she was never our weapon – she was theirs, shaped in their hate and their need."

"This hardly sounds like success," she said tiredly.

He shrugged, a liquid motion. "No? Then consider this: for seven years, she lived well. She was safe, and I am told she was happy. She even had something like a family, if such things matter. There was no other end for her and yet she lived as if there could be. So tell me, how did we fail her?"

"We gave her a family and we tore it apart."

"I have no idea what Kurt and Aurenna thought they were doing. They should know better."

"You put them in charge of a little girl and told them to raise her," she said. "You told them to protect her with their lives. How can you be surprised that they love her?"

"It was hardly part of the job." His voice was quite cool, a touch disapproving.

"It's exactly their job," she snapped.

"They're assassins."

"No, they're _parents_. They just happen to be assassins as well. You took Kurt and Aurenna away from the Furies. You set them apart, and you set Sunny apart. You taught her how to love and you used it to manipulate her."

He grimaced. "Love was not part of my plan."

"It never is." Chatoya walked away then. She left the heat and the sand and all that was buried in the desert, in the hollow places and the darkness. But she knew without a doubt, without a qualm, that when the new moon came, she would be back.

They would do this again: face down fire and monsters and all that lay in the void. And not for personal gain, no matter what he might think. It was for a simpler, better reason.

After all, it might not have been part of his plan – but it had always been part of hers.

oOo Fin oOo

Thank you so much for reading this. I hope you enjoyed it - and I would _love_ to know what you thought.


End file.
